


Not a Butterfly

by Nightbunny



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU
Genre: Body Horror, Forced Feminization, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Groping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 01:19:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5608312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightbunny/pseuds/Nightbunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After falling to his “death,” Hush realizes that Batman’s real weaknesses are women and Jason Todd. A deranged plan forms in his mind: Make Jason into a woman, and have him seduce Bruce Wayne. It doesn’t go how he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad Ideas

**Author's Note:**

> This is a deeply weird idea I had that just wouldn't go away. Inspired by a fanart of a gender-swapped Jason Todd that really just captured the character in female form to me, but at the same time a world where Jason was *born* looking like that would not be quite the same character. So then this happened. It is fucked up.

Barely alive, Hush dragged himself out of the murky, questionable water of the Gotham bay and crawled up the sand to the short cement wall that separated the city from the polluted depths. He coughed seawater while his breath fogged in the freezing night air and was excruciatingly aware every inch of him was covered with a filthy, sopping mess. The bandages were soaking and he snarled as he forced himself not to compulsively scratch at his face.

_Harvey._

Harvey had shot him at the moment of his triumph. If not for the body armor under his heavy coat and Harvey’s poor aim, instead of the severe bruising he could feel developing rapidly on his chest and the graze on his upper arm, he most certainly would have died. Now he was hurt, weak, his only protection that Batman must think him dead. Again. And what with dying and coming back once, it’s not so surprising when it happens twice. He’d be more prepared, ready for him when he came back. Hush would need to prepare, gather his resources, heal. That would take time, patience, planning.

But he’d been so close! So close to everything he’d ever wanted. And like him Batman was weak now, not as badly hurt, never as bad off as Tommy Elliot, oh no, he was always the lucky one, Bruce. If he could just strike now, soon enough while Batman still didn’t have his head together but not so soon that he wouldn’t have his guard down, Hush knew he could be rid of him. Take what was rightfully his, _should have been his!_

But what did he have? His allies had been uncovered and he had just had it slammed into him like flesh hitting ice water that you couldn’t trust anyone, even after you’d helped them. Given them what they wanted. Needed. They always tried to take more than they deserved. He would need to move more money from his offshore accounts in order to build up new resources in the city, ones that didn’t rely on people not completely under his thumb.

Had to punish the ones who’d betrayed him.

He still had his lab of course, his tools, and his “medical assistants” but that was all for surgery – his face. He’d need another plan. Another way to hit Bruce where it hurt, to distract him so he could be removed and so Tommy could watch his face contort in pain.

Hush snorted as he pulled himself over the wall and collapsed back against it. What had distracted Bruce the most every time they had ever spent time together? Women. 

He might be a deluded hypocrite with a leather fetish by night, but by day he was still the same skirt-chaser he’d always been, and unlike Tommy he’d always had a soft spot for those skirts. Perhaps he could use Bruce’s interest in that Catwoman against him. Aside from his “death,” she’d drawn Batman’s attention away almost more than anything else. But he wanted to hurt him, too. Hurt him for all the times he’d been given something Tommy should have had, had worked for. 

He grimaced. The only thing that had seemed to hurt Bruce more than his own “death” was when he’d had Clayface impersonate that Jason boy. So much carrying on for his dead street urchin charity case, it was ludicrous – but then again it had been extremely satisfying to watch. Bruce had looked _agonized_.

Tommy’s mind paused at that.

Women and Jason Todd. The two concepts repeated over and over in his head until it was like adding one plus one and through some mathematical distortion correctly getting five. Nothing distracted Bruce like a woman, and nothing hurt him like Jason Todd.

Gripping the wall, Hush pulled himself to his feet as the vile, deranged idea came together in his brain. 

He still had his lab hidden away and set up for surgery. He still had a sizable supply of Lazarus Water he’d taken from the pit Riddler had inadvertently given him the location to.

Hush smiled to himself as he slowly limped away into the city towards his base of operations.

Most importantly of all, he knew how to get in contact with Jason Todd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured Hush was smart enough to put two and two together when it came to Jason, especially with what exactly Jason wanted Hush and Clayface to help him do during that confrontation with Batman in “Batman: Hush.”


	2. Implementation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hush sets his plan in motion.

The first thing Hush did as soon as he’d made it back to his lab was to change his bandages and disinfect the sutures on his face from his dip in the Gotham Bay. Infection could not be tolerated or allowed to fester. He’d cleaned himself fastidiously and thrown his filthy, sodden clothes into a dumpster outside the old butcher’s shop his lab was housed in. 

There had been a vagrant hiding out there, who had been shocked to see an injured man wrapped in bandages stumble into the alley and had helped him inside. In return for this unexpected kindness Hush had bashed him on the head with a meat hook as soon as he turned around and then pumped a special cocktail of drugs he’d created into the man’s veins. He’d had him shower to remove as much of the stench as possible and now the former vagrant was sorting through scalpels, silk, and needles like the rest of his dead-eyed assistants. They couldn’t think for themselves, but that was hardly new. It didn’t matter as long as they took instruction well.

He spent the next two weeks gathering the necessary drugs and tools his surgery lacked, sending out his assistants to pick up the black market deliveries he ordered through the morally flexible medical contacts he’d made over the years, and setting up the old warehouse behind his makeshift lab for his trap. 

It would have been better if he could have gotten was a smaller, more enclosed space, but he needed easy access to his lab for transport – he couldn’t risk being discovered by the Bat at this stage in his plans. It would have to be enough. Once everything was in place he sent a short email to the address the boy had given him should he need to contact him further, asking to meet inside the warehouse in three days time to discuss a way to hurt their mutual enemy beyond anything he had ever imagined.

He had spent the rest of the intervening time preparing his operating room and briefing his assistants on the process and their role while counting down the hours for the meeting. His assistants needed everything they were to do explained carefully and thoroughly in simple terms in order for them to understand and carry out his orders, which was honestly the only drawback to the end result of their creation, but nonetheless an aggravating one. In that time he had not gotten a response to his message, but he was not too concerned. He’d baited his trap with something the boy wanted very badly, he wouldn’t be able to resist coming to find out exactly what Hush had in mind. 

_Children_. They always wanted more.

But now it was finally the moment to get in place. In his lab, Hush carefully inserted a filter into his nostrils with a long thin tube connected to it that lead to a small oxygen tank hidden under his coat, and covered it back up with a long roll of bandage. He signaled his assistants to move as he exited the building and slunk across the alleyway into the warehouse, paranoia making him look out for any bat shaped shadows in the dark. 

He moved into position in the center of the warehouse, one hand poised over the remote in his hand, and waited. He expected the boy may already be outside, staking out the location before entering, to ensure there were not any surprises waiting for him, but Hush had prepared his this trap prior to even attempting to contact him.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, as Hush patiently stood stock still waiting he heard the sound of heavy boots on the cement floor. Under his bandages, he raised an eyebrow. There had been no telltale sound of a window or door opening and the footfalls were too nearby for their owner to just have entered now. They were purposefully letting him know he was not alone. 

Turning towards the source of the noise he saw a shadow separate itself from the wall.

“You gonna tell me what the hell this is about?” the boy growled as he stepped into the small open area Hush had arranged in the middle of the warehouse.

He was wearing the exact same outfit he’d had on when they’d met before, the only thing concealing his identity that same red domino mask. Hush briefly wondered if they were also the same clothes (disgusting) or if the boy just had so little imagination when it came to dressing himself all his clothing looked the same. If it was the latter he would need to take care of that angle himself. Actually, better to do so regardless – Tommy Elliot had far superior taste.

“To destroy Batman, of course,” Hush said, gently pressing the only button on the small remote nestled in his hand. Outwardly, nothing appeared to happen, but then that was the point. He made certain to only breathe in through his nose.

“What, your master plan fall apart already?” The boy said, mockingly.

Hush glared, carefully not balling his hands into fists at the boy’s superior smirk. He’d learn to respect his betters soon enough.

“The ‘Plan’” Hush said, using the same emphasis, “worked excellently. I had Batman beaten, broken before me. _I would have won_. But Harvey Dent betrayed me.” He paused, slowing his breathing back to normal. “A minor setback, nothing more.”

“A setback?” The boy snorted. “And now you want my help again.”

“Batman is weak, with your assistance he could be destroyed now, before he recovers.” Hush continued as if the boy hadn’t spoken. His opinion was worthless, and the only point to the conversation how long it could be drawn out.

“And why the fuck should I help you since you couldn’t seal the deal the first time?” The boy asked, crossing his arms and shifting his weight to one side a little clumsily, then righted himself, frowning slightly. There.

“You assume you have any choice in the matter,” Hush stated and the boy’s eyes widened then narrowed.

“The fuck-!“ He started forward, no doubt to attack, but then stumbled. The scentless gas Hush had been slowly releasing into the air having taken its toll. He’d hidden the canisters in the open boxes on the warehouse shelves, arrayed around the center where they stood. Primitive, but effective.

The boy stared confused for a moment and Hush smirked. But then his face contorted into a snarl and he charged forward, as though he’d simply shaken off the effects. “You!”

Hush ducked aside as a blade flashed where his throat had been a moment before, the knife appearing seemingly out of nowhere in the boy’s hand. He tried to back away but the boy kicked his leg out, hitting Hush in the side of the knee, making him cry out from the pain as he collapsed by the shelves. He knew that if that kick had been any harder it would have broken his knee, but the gas was having an effect on the boy after all, slowing him down, weakening his strikes.

The boy whirled halfway around unsteadily toward where Hush lay against the shelf, boxes falling off on top of him where he’d thrown out his arm to try and catch himself. Twirling the knife so he had it gripped with the blade pointing downwards, the boy growled, seemingly speechless with rage, and dove for Hush. Unthinkingly, Hush grabbed the nearest box and flung in at him, hitting him in the chest with it. The boy batted it away, took two more steps, and then came down with the knife.

Several moments passed by.

Opening his eyes, Hush realized he was still alive. He shifted his arms and legs experimentally. No pain except in his knee, everything still attached, although he appeared to be pinned in place.

The boy was collapsed on top of him, his face against Hush’s chest, the knife an inch away from his hip, actually partially embedded in the concrete. Hush gripped the boy’s chin where it lay, positioning the angle of his head so he could see to carefully lift one eyelid. The boy’s pupils were dilated and unresponsive, but he could still feel his pulse with two fingers against his neck. He glanced over at the fallen box, its contents now spilled out onto the floor. Ah.

Rolling gently on its side was a canister of the knockout gas. It had been in the box and the boy must have gotten a facefull when he’d thrown it at him, finally enough to bring him down. This was why he would have rather have done this in a more enclosed area. Too much of the gas had simply escaped into the air instead of concentrating in the area he needed it for. But he’d caught his prey, and would suitably punish him for that attack later, at his leisure. For now, he had work to do.

Gripping the metal shelf, Hush pulled himself up on his good leg, dumping the unconscious boy to the floor. He limped over to the warehouse door that let out into the alley and banged four times before standing back. A minute later the door opened and his assistants filed in. He pointed towards the boy and the three of them walked over and picked him up as they had been instructed, two at his shoulders and one at his feet, and carried him out after Hush into the butcher’s shop.

He led them into the operating room in his lab and had them lay the boy down on the metal table he’d covered with a thin, clean mattress earlier and had them strip and put him in a hospital gown, prepping him with the IV’s while Hush changed into scrubs himself. His tools were already laid out to his preference on the counter beside him, and he considered his patient as he selected a scalpel. 

Where to begin? For this to work the boy would need to be as physically indistinguishable from a born woman as possible.

Nothing to be done about those shoulders, but then there were plenty of women with a strongly built physique it need not be a problem. The boy had excellent bone structure, if a strong chin, and he already had full, sensual lips it would be easy to enhance them with a bit of sculpting to the rest of the face. He would need to shave down the bone of the chin and the forehead a bit, some minor alterations to the brow and the nose, and then there was the voice to consider…

 _Do the major work first_ , Hush decided, _and save the detailing for afterwards_.

He bent down and began to cut.

**Author's Note:**

> I figured Hush was smart enough to put two and two together when it came to Jason, especially with what exactly Jason wanted Hush and Clayface to help him do during that confrontation with Batman in “Batman: Hush.”


End file.
